Chinese
by E.J. Cady
Summary: Relationships are complicated and it's made worse when you can't communicate when the one you love. And then you're stuck in a world of misunderstandings and angst...my specialty...enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

Manicured nails played with the bracelet on a slim pale wrist to dispel the anxiousness Pam felt while the elevator rose to the ninth floor. She wore a pink sweater with the sleeves pulled up to her forearm with a matching skirt and heels. The bag of Chinese food she held swayed slightly when she shifted as she considered the circumstances that brought her here. Six months ago she was happy. Six months ago she thought her wife was happy as well. Although, everything isn't always as it seems and while she was certain of her life and the life with her wife Tara wasn't. The slender African American writer captured her attention at a bar, the least likely place she thought she'd ever find her soul mate. That's what she liked to classify them as, soul mates. They'd been together for five years content to just be without the added commitment of vows and it already felt like they'd known each other for a lifetime. That feeling was rare. It doesn't come with every person one lets in their bed Pam knew because she received several partners throughout her thirty two years and felt connected to less than a handful of them. She thought she was broken. Tara changed that for her. Now the bright future she had in her head was jeopardized by four little words Pam detested for the last four months, "I need my space."

On the first floor she felt certain, but as she drew closer to her goal and the bell dinged before the doors slid open she was tempted to press the button to go back down and deliberate for another two hours in her car. The Chinese food hadn't even been part of her plan to pop in to see if Tara was ok. The writer was notorious for letting her phone die or turning it off especially when she was in the middle of a project. Her publishers reached her via email and anyone else who knew the ebony skinned writer well enough. In front of Pam's computer with the warm light of the screen washing over the blond she typed a two page letter of how unfair she thought Tara was being four months after she prepared a speech of understanding when the writer packed her things and moved out. She did the polite thing and helped and promised that she would be a friend to her. In all honesty she only said those things because she couldn't stand the thought of losing Tara entirely it wasn't because she wanted to. Pam was expected to say those things. She hated being nice and she hated that she had to pretend to be nice to Tara when their relationship was never built on pretend. When they were angry they yelled it out and then fucked and forgave each other in the process.

Her heels ate up the carpeted floor to Tara's room even in her sedate pace she thought she'd gotten there too fast. Yet, she was there now standing in front of the door hoping that this wasn't presumptuous of her and that Tara wouldn't send her away. Looking down at the food she felt that if anything she'd be let in because her lover was easily swayed by edible gifts.

"Come on Pam you can do this," she encouraged herself before knocking on the door.

From other side heard a thump then Tara cursing and something falling. Steeling her worried eyes she plastered a smirk instead a picture of confidence she didn't feel.

The door was yanked open. Tara glared at her with a sharp response on the tip of her lips that died immediately and her gaze melted when she saw Pam. The look made the blond hopeful, but she decided to swallow it for fear that it would make her look too eager and overwhelm Tara.

"I brought dinner," she held up the bag for her more than to show off what she had brought. Tara looked sexy with hair up in a ponytail and crimson rimmed glasses resting on her head.

Tara eyed it warily then at the woman beyond it worrying the blond for the seconds it took for her lover to finally let her in. When the shorter woman moved to the side she nodded a thanks entering the writer's self imposed prisoner or sanctuary.

"I brought extra soy sauce," Pam stated placing the bag on the table near the window. Pulling out a chair she made herself comfortable while Tara closed her laptop on the way to the corner of the bed nearest the wooden table Pam had begun to prepare the food.

There were three Styrofoam containers and one white paper box with a red print of an Oriental style tower on the side. She slid the unopened pack of chopsticks to Tara opening the tops of each container like she was revealing a treasure.

Chicken with broccoli, fried wontons, and lo mein Tara's favorites. Before the writer dove in she thanked the blond who smiled thinly in thanks swallowing the anger rising inside her. Repeating a mantra in her head to be the understanding one she scanned the room. It was neat mostly like due to the twenty four maid service. Tara wasn't dirty by nature, but she could let things go when she was focused on her project sometimes forgetting to eat, which made Chinese even better to bring. For some reason Tara was more productive sucking on lo mein noodles than a sloppy burger. She continued her perusal landing on the bed that didn't look slept in though the blankets on top looked wrinkled. The writer was probably sitting on the sheets as she wrote.

"You went to Chow's," Tara moaned in thanks when she bit into her first wonton.

Pam nodded taking in Tara's wardrobe an old blue tank with bleach stained with holes and a gray sweats rolled up to her calf muscles and white socks that most likely reached past her knees. The writer could never be described as the most fashion savvy, but Pam helped when it came to book signings or other functions where Tara's lounging clothes wouldn't impress as well.

Her eyes went back to the laptop. Something was missing. Viewing the room again she realized Tara didn't have a slew of paper stacked or laid out for her notes. "How's the book coming?"

The writer finished chewing covering her mouth with food still in her mouth she replied, "slow, but I've written some paragraphs I'm happy with."

"Paragraphs?"

"I said it was slow," she shrugged standing to get comfortable on the bed leaning against the headboard and pillows, "you aren't eating?"

The blond raises her left brow with a look of incredulity.

The writer chuckled Pam wasn't a big fan of Chinese, but that didn't stop her from picking at Tara's plate one occasion just because she could. "Get over here and bring those wontons with you," she nodded to the box she left on the table too lazy to get up and get them herself.

Pam didn't move.

"Please," Tara added remembering her manners.

The satisfied blond took off her shoes then grabbed the box on the way to the bed crawling on the mattress adjusting her pillows behind her back just like she liked them. Reaching for the remote she turned the television on refusing to sit awkwardly in relative silence while her lover ate. She flipped through the channels absently aware of the sliver of space that separated Tara's legs from hers.

"I don't think anything good is on," Tara offered.

Pam snorted, "Nothing is ever good on TV."

She stopped on a show she didn't recognize not as invested to finding something of substance to watch. Half watching the television and Tara from the corner of her eye she played with her bracelet again. Her focus the television blurred as she thought about all the things she wanted to say, but she also knew it would be unfair. Tara needed time and Pam would give it to her.

Tara laughed obviously at something on the television or maybe at the awkwardness of their situation. Pam chuckled half heartedly to act like she was paying attention earning her a speculative look from Tara, "what are you laughing at?"

Not wanting to be found out Pam answered immediately, "It was funny."

"What part of them arguing about who pooped in the bed is funny to you?" Tara queried with a knowing smirk.

Pam's faces folded, "what?"

"This is It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia this episode's about figuring out who shit in the bed that the characters share."

"Oh," Tara laughed at Pam's uncertain face, "it's funny," she defended her earlier statement.

They shared a look with two diverse expressions one very skeptical and the other adamant until both of their masks crumbled under the jovial weight of the moment. They laughed wholeheartedly and it felt great for Pam at least. And through her happy tears she saw her lover laughing with her as well seemingly happy. Was she happy? Pam wondered flipping through the months before Tara decided to leave. She had fooled Pam looking content touching her lovingly and the reckless joy she felt in the laughter dissipated as she sobered wiping at her eyes in earnest because sad tears were threatening to replace the happy. Refusing to cry in front of Tara she stood without warning and closed herself in the bathroom. Ripping tissue off the roll she dotted her eyes thanking the creator of water proof eye liner.

She heard Tara moving around with the TV still playing in the background. There was a soft knock, but she didn't respond collecting herself via the mirror thinking that perhaps she had been too rash to come even after her mental coaching in the parking garage, "shit," she hissed.

Tara knocked again, "Pam? Are you ok?"

"Fine," she answered abruptly lowering her head clenching her eyes shut closing off the part of her that began to inconveniently feel the brunt of their situation like a punch to her gut. "Fine," she reiterated when she was ready.

She reached for the door to see Tara sitting on the bed waiting for her. The carefree moment from before was lost and the blond knew it was her fault, but she couldn't help it. The emotions were sudden and she wasn't prepared grateful at least made it to make it to the bathroom before she fell apart completely.

"Hey," Tara greeted her.

"Hi," Pam leaned against the frame noticing Tara had put the food away, and a stack of cards were sitting in the center of the bed.

"I wasn't really getting any writing done," she left the statement there reaching for the deck shuffling the cards in a simple flourish.

She returned to the bed sinking onto it and putting her legs together crossing her ankles while Tara sat closer to the edge of the end of the bed wither her legs crossed. This was easy, easy felt great considering all the night she spent trying to distract Pam from the anger, the hurt, the confusion. Tara dealt two cards one faced down and one facing up. They began the game politely pulling cards from the deck when they needed saying "excuse me" or "oh, sorry," when their hands bumped into each other when they reached for the deck both needing another card to reach twenty one. After a while when they were bored with being polite Tara glared at the blond as she revealed for the third time in a row a perfect hand of twenty one.

"You're fucking cheating."

Pam withheld the smile that threatened to gloat calming it down to a smirk that Tara didn't appreciate either, "how am I doing that dear?" she queried innocently.

Tara didn't know so she didn't say anything shuffling the cards again after her defeat. Flicking the cards using the momentum of her wrist she haphazardly dropped the deck on the bed glaring at her hand examining Pam's face as she impassively read her deck.

"So," Tara decided to make conversation in hopes of distracting the blond, "why's a girl like you delivering Chinese to lowly customers like me?" she asked randomly.

Pam picked up on the game only because when they were together they regularly role played, although she didn't question how wise it would be to do it when they were on uncertain terms. Against her better judgment she played along playing with the line of her sweater then drawing another card from the deck.

"It's a job and I had nothing else to do with a Friday night," she shrugged eyeballing Tara's look of concentration. "What's a lowly customer like yourself holed up in here for?"

"I'm a writer," the dark skinned woman informed flipping her cards over, "stay," she meant her cards.

Foolishly Pam's hopes soared when she heard the one word statement deflating as quickly when she realized what Tara meant. Deciding now was a good a time as any to show her hand she placed her four cards face up. She smirked when she saw the writer's scowl.

"That's it! You're fucking cheating!" Tara threw her cards up attacking Pam until she was hovering over the woman inches from her lips.

"Prove it," Pam dared raising her head closing the distance stopping purposefully just before she touched Tara's lips. Her breath hitched when she felt Tara's probing hand on her thighs.

"You're hiding cards," Tara deduced.

Pam shook lowered her head shaking it making her head fan the pillow beneath her adorably. Tara loved when Pam's hair hung over her shoulders. And in certain styles she looked adorably innocent which thrilled the writer because she knew that underneath the vanilla exterior a vixen slumbered until the right phrase or touch roused her.

"You are," Tara reiterated intelligently.

Blue eyes lowered to Tara's lips she craved and she would beg for them if she knew that Tara would give in, "where would I put them?"

Tara answered with her hands running the tips of her finger along Pam's thighs before palming them in a harder grip. The blond didn't react which made Tara want to probe more. When her hands came up to the buttons of her sweater Pam's hand caught her wrist. With a caress that Tara perceived as permission the dark skinned woman continued to unbutton the sweater slowly. Her eyes never left from the ivory buttons that fell away leaving the sweater limp and Pam's pale skin exposed. When she reached the lower buttons her brow furrowed when she saw the edge of a card from within. She had only been kidding when she accused Pam of cheating meeting lust filled blue eyes that took Tara's uncertain hand to release the last button.

"Do I get punished now?" Pam sat up on her elbows asking the woman straddling her.

Tara moved off of the blond and Pam stopped on reflex wanted to reach out to her in order to pull her back and finish what they started. But she didn't and thankfully Tara didn't go too far.

"Turn over," she ordered Pam.

The blond still on her elbows grew giddy at the look Tara was giving her inwardly congratulating herself on the choice of Chinese.

"Now," Tara practically growled when Pam wasn't moving fast enough.

With ease the woman turned over on her stomach her elbows pressed hard into the bed with her hands clasped liked were about to pray. For the longest time she didn't feel Tara, but she knew the woman was watching her. Looking her over to deliberate what she wanted to do next and Pam didn't mind because even waiting was a sensual experience knowing that the wanted she wanted was taking her time with her. Pam only hoped it would be all night. Her behind rose when she felt Tara over her meeting the warmth of Tara's center.

"No," Tara hummed in her ear biting her earlobe, "ask from my permission," she growled palming Pam's behind roughly then pushing it back down.

Pam bit the center of her bottom lip, "please," she murmured.

"Please what?" Tara whispered.

"Please can I touch you?" she turned her head slightly wishing at that very moment that Tara could read minds and she claim her lips in a hard kiss. She wanted to be possessed. She rocked her body into Tara because she wanted to be taken over and over and over with months of pent up need bottlenecking at her sex. Damn she was wet.

"No," Tara refused her again mirroring the same rough gesture this time keeping her hands on Pam's behind to keep her there. The woman was too horny to be good. And Tara had not problem making her pay pleasantly for her obstinacy.

"Why?" the blond husked.

Tara ignored the question ordering her to get on her knees. The writer was tempted to rip off her lover's clothes. Tempering her excitement was a feet she rose to the challenge for because it pleased her to satiate Pam's need at her leisure. It was the show she knew the blond would put on for her specifically. The lip biting, the rolling her hips, the come hither shake of her behind that Tara's center wanted to lunge at and ride in earnest. Though, before they could play or even touched the clothes Pam needed to be taught a lesson cheaters never prosper.

Grabbing Pam by her waist she guiding her roughly at the height she wanted her with her behind sticking up in the air. Tara ran her hands over the mound while pale fingers dug into the sheets and a lowered head inhaled the writer's scent augmenting her arousal times ten. She whimpered at the first slap. It was too gentle she wanted more however Pam knew better than to be vocal. This was Tara's game, a test hit to gauge how ready Pam was. She moaned long before she was touched and after to show Tara that they had started something she wanted finished. That the throbbing need from her center demanded be finished—it didn't matter how long it took.

The blond jerked, hair fell in her face, when she was it again, this time harder with the palm of her hand sliding over the abused cheek. More, she mouthed to herself moaning when Tara read her mind and hit her even harder on the other cheek. Soaked and needy she pushed her behind up further answering Tara's now consistent hits with her own moment. Then two hands squeezed her painfully and she wanted Tara to take her skirt off. The blond needed it off.

"Are you hiding more cards?" Tara slapped her.

Pam shook her head and her breath hitched when Tara thrust into her grabbing a handful of hair in her fist. This was the perfect opportunity to grind into the woman behind her.

The writer felt the error in her latest position because she couldn't pull away immediately. She stayed and let Pam move against her. Enthralled by the motion of her hips her eyes lowered almost closing but open enough to see Pam's confidence. Hands slid under her skirt to touch the flesh underneath. Playing with Pam's panties she tugged at the edges grazing the skin with a nail like Pam liked. Grabbing them roughly she felt the fabric stretch then give on her final tug.

"Here?" Tara queried searching the destroyed garment her knuckles grazing Pam's center making the woman jump, "no," she throated pulled the panties down the left thigh where it stopped at her bent knee.

Pam tried to open her thighs hoping to ride Tara's knuckles to at least feel some contact. It would help, but the writer wasn't having it pulling away just enough pressing her bare hands on her soft backside massaging it. This earned her a needy whisper.

"Fuck," she needed to be touched in more pertinent area Tara was ignoring.

Tara's phone rang. Blue eyes hooded eyes acknowledged the device on the bedside. Tara wrapped her arm around her lover's waist kissing her shoulder trying to throw herself into the moment to ignore. Pam instinctively knew Tara wasn't into it anymore. Something had been broken so she pulled away turning over feeling for the phone that she eventually pressed into the writer's chest.

"Answer it," Pam commanded beneath her. She pulled for Tara's shirt when she felt her love attempt to rise supposedly for some privacy.

If Pam had to pin point when the cause of their troubles she would say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it began with a phone call rather several phone calls at all hours of the night. Tara began to carry her phone with her everywhere even to the bathroom and only on select phone calls did she take them in a more private place. Pam considered her lover was cheating, but it didn't fit her personality. Tara was loyal and dedicated to her she was too attentive to be enamored with anyone else under their roof. Although, since the writer moved out she didn't have the same certainty she had when she saw her every day, when she could ask about her day and gauge if she was withholding anything.

Tara didn't answer it and let it ring until it stopped. The tension was palpable and as much as Pam hated Tara right now she twisted her hand half into her shirt and half into the top her sweats because if for some reason she was inclined to leave, she couldn't. The phone rang again. The darker woman tried to pull away against Pam's wishes, she didn't get very far.

"Answer," Pam dared her.

"Hello," Tara turned her head away.

The simple action hurt, but blue eyes never left the troubled face looking off at the curtains of the window to their left.

"No—"

Tara was cut off by whoever was on the other end. Pam couldn't make out much, but her heart sank and her grip loosened when she the words "I'm coming up."


	2. Chapter 2

Pam felt like a fool. She her cheeks warm from embarrassment for every action that lead her to this moment. Falling for Tara, being vulnerable enough to fall in love, being understanding enough to let her go and now letting her passions run rampant when Tara didn't want her. Releasing the writer she slid off the bed. When she stood he began straightening her clothes collecting and sifting her thoughts as they sped inside her mind.

"Pam," Tara called for her the jerky woman.

The blond stopped long enough to acknowledge Tara whose mouth open then shut, "fuck you," Pam decided to say. "Who is she?" The voice on the other end was distinctly female. Tara didn't want to answer and luckily Pam didn't want to hear the answer as she rushed to retract the question. With an angry, "never mind I don't want to know," she went into the bathroom to fix her hair. She knew it was a mess.

"It's not what you think," Tara still kneeling on the bed with her hands on her thighs watched the woman's hurried movements conflicted. The part of her that wanted to comfort Pam would also expose her to a truth Tara's been hiding since they met.

"How the hell do you know what I'm thinking?" she turned on Tara, "do you know what you want anymore, because I can't read your mind. And you're not talking to me! Do you know how frustrating that is?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you."

Tara sounded so calm. Why did she sound so calm when she was just found out? Did it mean she didn't care as much as she let on? Had they, as couple, meant more to Pam than Tara? And after all this long she thought the younger woman was equally invested. If Tara thought her tone was consoling then she thought wrong. The tone did the exact opposite filling the blond with dual emotions of both sadness and anger.

I'm not trying to hurt you she said. The words repeated in her head placing her lost heels on sitting on the edge of the bed feeling Tara's eyes boring into her back longingly. What did she want from her? What did she want from her that this mystery woman couldn't give her?

"You are," Pam glared. She wanted to throw something. To quell the urge she clenched her fists instead.

"Then why are you here?" Tara asked frustrated. None of this would have happened if Pam kept her distance long enough for Tara to fix what needed to be and then they could go back to their lives together.

"Because I…." she stopped herself feeling like she'd played the fool long enough. The three letter phrase wouldn't make it better. It wouldn't save Pam from her heartache and she decided she wouldn't. "I guess I thought there was something to fight for."

Tara rubbed her face with the palm of her hands, "it's not what you think," Tara reiterated sadly.

"What is it then? What haven't you been telling me for the last six months? What's the big secret?"

There was a knock at the door.

Tara stiffened. Pam noticed. The blond stated earlier she didn't want to know. She didn't want to see this woman that Tara left her for. Strangely enough she wouldn't mind now. The woman was just beyond the door. The writer sluggishly stood when the knock became insistent enough to worry about the neighbors lodging a complaint. Pam thought it was odd, but she didn't say anything. She stood there waiting for no other reason than curiosity. And she hated herself for it. She hated that Tara had the audacity to answer the door while she was here and her best reaction was to stand there and look. Tara was taking her time to open the door. Perhaps she thought Pam couldn't handle it or maybe it was all for show in order to introduce her new lover. She imagined the woman was younger, a brunette, with big breasts and long legs because those were that attributes that attracted the writer to Pam in the first place. Her type hadn't changed.

"What the fuck took you so long?" the voice startled Pam from her reverie.

The voice was husky and whatever she might have said next was interrupted by a cough and then some hacking that caused her to flee in the bathroom hunched over holding a fist at her mouth.

Visibly disturbed Pam looked to Tara stopped just at the entrance to the rest of the room. Her brown eyes were a mixture of emotions Pam read generally as unhappy. Then she stepped cautiously at a spot at the foot of the bed where she would have a better angle to look at Tara's guest. She was an older woman who looked like a stray animal died on her head. Her eyes were large as if perpetually in shock, but Pam assumed she was high on something. She didn't know how the woman managed to get passed the front desk when it was common knowledge they escorted people that looked the way she did out.

The coughing subsided and the water began to run. She turned the nozzle with the hand she'd been coughing in and Pam cringed hoping that Tara noticed too and would be careful next time she used the bathroom. Whatever this woman had could be contagious.

"I had a night," she started her voice sounding louder because of the bathroom acoustics.

"Really?" Tara sounded uninterested to Pam.

"Yea, I met up with this guy in his car and he was all suck my dick this and suck my dick that," she looked devastated that the man would even ask her pressing a hand to her chest, "I don't him I won't that type of girl."

"Sure you aren't," Tara answered cruelly.

The older woman caught on stopping her story there, "I didn't have to come here," she acted as if she was doing the writer a favor. "Got anything to eat," she went straight to the fridge stopping short when she noticed Tara had company, "oh." It wasn't a surprised expression it was more of a vindicated exclamation. Her eyes rolled over every inch of Pam sucking at the top her teeth before she took several steps backwards. "You look expensive."

"Pardon me," Pam glared.

"A high and mighty ho," Lettie Mae laughed to herself pointing to Pam like she was in grade school.

"Enough," Tara whispered harshly.

The older woman turned to her daughter shaking her head, "you don't get to imply I ain't the type of woman to go down on a man out of wedlock when you holed up with a hooker."

"What?" Pam exclaimed. She shook her head then looked from Tara and her visitor, "what the fuck."

"I bet you like a woman with a foul mouth," Lettie Mae went to the refrigerator remembering she was hungry. Taking out the Styrofoam boxes without permissions she made herself comfortable with the writer's food. She took one cold bite and automatically thought this was her best meal of the weak. It cold for the most part, but some of the rice was still warm.

A confused Pam looked at the tired writer. She caught Tara's gaze for a moment before brown eyes fell hiding from her. The blond wanted answers and if she couldn't get sex she might as well get that. And this strange woman seemed forthcoming enough to answer all her questions. She decided to overlook the fact that she mistook her for a hooker.

"I'm Pamela Tara's girlfriend," she would have held out her hand, but the woman didn't look like the type to be touched and Pam genuinely didn't want to touch her. "You are?"

"You got yourself a nice little pasty piece of ass," Lettie Mae shook her body in her seat.

Tara recognized the move knowing her mother had it in her head that she was going to start a lecture on life.

"You think you better than me or your brothers and sisters? You ain't better if you got to pay for it, I'll tell you right now, you ain't better if her coochie got a price tag. It just means you got money and you ain't responsible with it," Lettie Mae gave Pam an expression of disgust, "and the least you could've done is bought someone a little prettier and classier looking," she said out of spite.

Tara sighed becoming agitated.

"I," Lettie Mae stood holding her head up theatrically and Tara might have thought her mother thought all of this was a joke when she said with pride and all seriousness, "am Lettie Mae Thornton. The mother of that ungrateful girl."

The writer's agitation was growing into rage from her mother's embarrassing behavior and Pam's surprised expression.

"How much do you want?" Tara interrupted her mother before she could say anything else stupid.

But Lettie was determined to say stupid things because in her mind they sounded profound. She didn't take in consideration that it was just the drink talking. "I ain't no hooker so don't talk to me like one. I'm your mama."

Tara swallowed her biting comment finding her wallet pulling out bills. That was one way to shut her up as her mother looked wantonly at the bills licking her lips as the fantasy of all the liquor she could get her hands on fluttered in her head. It was cruel of Tara to abuse her mother's vice, but she was passed the point of caring. She wanted the woman gone and she almost regretted ever thinking that moving out and allowing her to stay at this hotel with her to look after Lettie was a good idea.

"I'm hungry too," Lettie Mae threw out when Tara was closing her wallet. "And I saw a nice dress that I can go to church in, you want me to go to church don't you, you're praying for your mama aren't you?"

Begrudgingly Tara gave the alcoholic the brunt of her money throwing the money on the bed for her mother to grab and claim. And even as she was finished counting she wouldn't be happy until she had Tara's last which saw lounging alone in her wallet.

"This is it?" she held up the money.

"Yea."

Tara wouldn't be moved and Lettie realized she'd probably gotten all she could get out of her.

"Pink looks nice on you," she complimented Pam who watched the exchanged with elevated interest. Lettie Mae didn't wait for her reply as she hurried to the door brushing her lips across her daughter's cheek. "I love you."

Like a statue Tara took her mother's love at a grain salt aware the only reason she received was because the woman got what she wanted.

Lettie, older, was passed the age where she should be having tantrums and yet it was engrained in her mind that if she made enough noise she would eventually get what she wanted. And it was mainly in the case of family. Her family didn't want her around so they ignored her or more favorably paid her what she wanted giving her at least five dollars to disappear somewhere and hole up for a couple of days. With Tara, her successful daughter, she could get more and she knew it.

"Mama loves you," she said happily over her shoulder closing the door behind her.

Standing stupidly next to her bed with a wallet with a lone twenty dollar bill she wondered how she let her mother use her again. And she could understand where her dark thoughts came from. Lettie Mae was a resilient soul though, and no matter how often she hoped to get a phone call saying her mother had died she also prayed she didn't. This was the part of her life that she didn't want Pam to see. The dirty filthy part she was ashamed of and not only her behavior but also Lettie Mae's. It was a fucking circus she closed her walled tossing it on the dresser.

"That was your mother?"

Tara nodded opting not to say it aloud to temper the sting of the rotten truth of where she came from.

"She's…." Pam trailed off.

"A piece of work."

"To put it mildly," joining Tara on the edge of the bed where she dropped with a heavy sigh. "She makes a lasting impression."

"I'm a little tired," Tara lied.

Pam's sympathy quickly turned to anger and the writer knew it meeting her eyes unapologetically. Tara was pushing her away.


	3. Chapter 3

This is the quote that I thought of midway in the chapter from What's Love Got to do With It.

You know, ever now and then, I think you might like to hear something from us nice and easy. But there's one thing: we never, ever do nothing nice and easy, we always do it nice and rough. So we're gonna take the beginning of this song and to it easy, and then we're gonna do the finish rough.

-Tina Turner.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx

"You should leave," the words came out slowly.

Tara felt Pam's shadow as she stood over her. She expected a scathing remark. Perhaps something fitting like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree or something other nonsense. She didn't want to think anymore she didn't want to feel anymore she pinched the bridge of her nose lost in her own thoughts hearing Pam's heels recede the front door. She wanted to reach up and grab her. To stop her from leaving because the last thing she wanted was to be alone. Then again this was her penance. She had let her mother in her life yet again and she would pay for it alone because involving Pam was out of the question.

Waiting to hear the door close instead she heard the click of the lock. She kept her head lowered until she finally braved a glance upward to find Pam standing with her arms crossed leaning against the wall. She was a goddess in Tara's mind. A woman she didn't deserve and she'd said as much, but it didn't stop her from loving her or being filled with a warm reassurance that there was still a chance for them despite her efforts to end it.

This woman was incredible.

"What are you doing?" she heard herself say. It sounded pathetic, but at least it wasn't harsh and unwelcoming.

"I don't have any plans for tonight. I'd thought I'd keep you company, to talk."

Tara rubbed her forehead, "what if I don't want to talk."

"You're going to," Pam assured her.

"Look Pam," she began but a warm finger pressed against her lips stopped her.

"I get it, I'm not happy about it, but I get it."

"Get what?" she asked around her lover's finger.

"You're ashamed of me."

Tara frowned.

"I didn't think that you'd be the type to worry about color."

"Shut up," Tara moved her hand away pulling her lover down onto her lap. "I'm not ashamed of you," she stated harshly eying the blond with passion and love. "It's the other way around, I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't perfect, you are—this has nothing to do with you."

"Why?"

"Because my mother…." She trailed off sighing. Tara knew she'd have trouble with this conversation.

"You're going to let her come between us," the blond attempted to pull away. Tara wouldn't let her.

"She's a leach, a bad thing that comes in and out of my life when I think I'm finally free."

"Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"You're mother's not herpes."

Tar ducked her head in her lover chest in an attempt to hide her amusement, "this is serious."

Pam chuckled, "so your mother's not going to win any awards for her maternal instincts. She doesn't own you," Pam continued soberly hooking her fingers under Tara's chin to look into her chocolate depths, "and she doesn't have a say in us. So stop pushing me away—you're not allowed."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into. I want to be done with her but…"

Pam finished for her, "she's your mother."

"That no excuse," she turned away fighting the tears the subject of her mother provoked.

"Sometimes it's enough to look beyond her shortcomings and forget for a little while that she makes you unhappy."

"When'd you get wise and all knowing?"

"Since you left I've had some time to think about how I felt about you…everything really. You? Us? What's come between in a short amount of time?"

"I'm sorry I'm used to figuring these types of things out on my own."

"Don't."

Tara gave her a curious look.

"You don't have to anymore," Pam explained softening her tone. "You have me."

"You don't need to deal with my shit that's why it's called my shit."

"It's our shit if it affects you because we're a team as corny as that sound it's that simple my dear," she pushed Tara's hair behind her ear to admire her. "And I can excuse the last six months on one condition."

Tara looked at her warily.

"Tell me everything. I want to know everything."

The writer was at a loss for words. Loving Pam was easy opening up to her about everything including her mother filled her with trepidation. She felt Pam pulling away from her and she tightened her grip. The reassuring stroke of her hand calmed Tara down.

"I just want to get more comfortable," she crawls on the bed sitting against the headboard with pillows behind her.

Tara followed her dropping her head on Pam's lap.

"Where do you want me to begin?"

Pam stroked her hair, "wherever you want to begin."

Tara began appropriately at the beginning and with each story Pam saw her lover painting her life in a dark hues that belied her melancholy upbringing. And it made her relationship with her mother clearer. Lettie Mae was ultimately bad or ultimately good. She had a habit that she let take over every aspect of her life until something as dear as a daughter felt she needed to compete against the drink for her mother's affections. But, young Tara learned it was a losing game and it was better to let her mother's drunken stupors take their course throughout the night. There were other stories happier ones giving Pam a glimpse of the woman that Tara saw and loved. Whatever face she wore she would always be her mother and Pam didn't judge her for that—she didn't persecute her lover for the mother's shortcomings because Tara wouldn't the woman she was today without it.

The writer didn't want to move and the blond didn't want to either content to lay there elated that Tara would share so much after thinking the dark skinned woman didn't want to work at all. They were worth it weren't they.

"I still can't come home yet," Tara broke the companionable silence to deliver a blow to Pam's optimistic musings.

The blond considered, "ok."

Tara slid up to look into blue eyes. There were many meanings behind that single word and the writer wanted to know that Pam was truly ok. She could share her soul with her and everything that made up the dark skinned woman, but if she still had demons she needed to work out then it created problems for them. Lettie Mae was a problem for them. Whenever she comes into Tara's life she could bet to receive a visit from the nefarious friends her mother made in the short time she was in town. She gravitated to trouble and dragged it behind her damaging everything she came around including her daughter.

"I need you to understand. I'm doing this because I love you, this distance is killing me, but I love you that hasn't changed."

"You can't always fight you're battles alone. Why would you when you have someone willing to fight with you," she stroked her cheek, "for you." Pam was teetering on sappy, but she'd come here knowing she might risk an overly sentimental word or two for the sake of knowing Tara gave a damn. And she did give a damn so the blond had no qualms with whatever words that came out of her mouth that shared how she truly felt.

"You don't know what you're getting into?"

"I have a vague picture."

"You're not going to drive full speed ahead in a fog," Tara reasoned tiredly. "Let me weather this storm with my mother."

"You're not running," Pam wanted to be clear.

"I'm not running." Tara reiterated meaningfully, "I'm not."

They returned to their former positions at the head of the bed holding each other like buoys keeping each other afloat in the difficulty of being unable to give the other exactly what they needed. Resigned to not being enough they held onto the few things they were still sustained by their connection which were their love, devotion, and trust which had only recently been renewed after Tara let Pam in.

Pam didn't want to be understanding and say, "you have all the time in the world," because she didn't. She wanted their lives to go back to the way it was. She wanted her nights to be passion filled and the writer's hands alone knew where to please her and how much she could handle when teasing her. She didn't want to say it so she didn't.

Feeling their bodies react to one another again Tara was the first one to pull away. She didn't want Pam like this under these circumstances. She still lusted after her, she still loved her, but she wanted their reunion to be perfect and that couldn't happen when Tara was still in her current state of mind. It was wise to move away and she did avoiding blue eyes that were probably questioning her current move. And when she rose on her feet and found the blue she saw love and understanding staring back at her as she reached for her belongings again like earlier. Placing a feather like kiss and mildly responsive lips Pam fell into her lover's eyes hoping to impart with one look that she was loved and needed and sincerely missed.

"I love you."

Pam returned was happy to return the sentiment glad she didn't have to say it first and wonder if she had said it first would Tara have only replied to please her.

The blond's walk was shorter to the elevator. Her mind was filled with the possibilities of their lives together and happy because now she had hope. It was a wonderful feeling that catapulted her out of the elevator and into the lobby en route to her car. Her surroundings didn't matter she discovered they had faded away to her fantasies of feeling Tara under her bare skin again.

"Hello," she answered her phone with more life than she had in a long time which surprised the caller on the other end.

"Hello?" Sookie asked, "Pam is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," she smiled into the phone, "it's my number, my phone, my voice."

"You just sound…" Sookie couldn't put her finger on it, but she was displeased to hear it. Overjoyed might have been the words she was looking for in regards to her reaction to Pam's disposition. "So it went well?" she decided to ask instead of jumping to conclusions. Pam told her her plan to visits Tara's hotel in hopes to seeing her and talking. Sookie encouraged it knowing that the writer holed away in her room would enjoy the view of something other than uniform maids and the cold surface of the city and her room.

"Better than I expected," Pam gushed. "We talked, I met her mother—"

"Whoa," the blond stopped her, "you met her mother, when?"

"She came by tonight the woman is horrible, nothing like Tara at all. She was trying to protect me from her, she thinks she bad news or something. I just told Tara I wanted her and everything that came with her."

"What now?"

Pam shrugged first pausing outside of her car to the reflection. She was excited and she knew how to relieve that excitement lengthening her strides to get home. And this time she wouldn't mind as much going to bed alone with the smell of her lover still clinging to the sheets, she was inspired.

Too inspired to notice she was being followed or to react when someone stepped in front of her hitting her on the head. She crumbled to the ground dropping everything looking up at the dark sky from the flat of her back finding the floor and the room where Tara stayed.

The cell phone lay under the blond's car still on the line and listening intently after being startled by a struggle.

"This her?" Pam heard a male voice ask.

A familiar voice, familiar because she had just recently heard it, answered with a yea and then began a fit of coughing. Pam couldn't move. She was losing consciousness knowing she was in trouble faintly hoping someone would come for her. And the last thought before she was swallowed by dark was that no one would.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For years running water the sound of it and the warm spraying down on her was a comfort to her. She remembered many nights without hot water when her mother used it all for herself or her boyfriend at the time leaving Tara the coldest water before she went to bed. Deeply affected by chill water during bath time she refused to wash in lukewarm water. She liked to the sensation of her skin burning while the hot water rushed down on her. She almost decided against a shower just to savor the scent of Pam on her, but she was consoled with the fact her sheets and her pillow would smell like her lover. When she dried and dressed she dropped down face first on the exact spot where the woman lay.

"Pam," she murmured in a hum. "Pam," she repeated in a smile her nipples hardening when she remembered what they had almost done on this bed.

She wondered if the blond texted her if she was home and safe. It was a habit they'd gotten into one evening when Tara insisted the blond stay one of the first nights they met each other. Pam had refused, but she promised she would text her when she got home creating a tradition. When Tara turned on her phone she saw messages and missed calls none of them were from Pam. This worried her. She recognized the number having yet to save it in her phone. It was Sookie Pam's best friend.

She dialed it.

Sookie answered on the first ring, "where the fuck have you been? What's wrong with your phone? Do You know how long I've been trying to call you?"

Tara ignored the questions responding with one of her own, "what's wrong?"


	4. Chapter 4

Tara raced out of the hotel room jumping into the elevator that wasn't going fast enough. She paced in the small space her head throbbing from a headache brought on by worry. She dialed Pam's number deciding she would dial until the woman answered. The writer thought of all the reasons why Pam might not be answering the first would be that she had her music up too loud in the car and it was drowning out the buzzing because she constantly kept her phone on vibrate. Still, Pam had a habit of checking her phone constantly surely the light of the phone illuminated the dark car signaling missed calls and unanswered messages. Her heart began to pound as she tried to remain positive. Thinking the worst would only trouble her like it did Pam's best friend. Sookie's fear was palpable and even through the phone and it scared as Tara as she assured the blond that nothing could be wrong she knew that it wasn't the case when she headed to the parking lot and Pam still hadn't answered her calls. She didn't see Pam's car. She didn't see anything that would warrant worry.

The number was dialed again and she turned taking in the parking lot she stopped when the phone was answered by an unfamiliar voice.

"Hello?" the voice was female, but it didn't belong to Pam.

Forcing herself to stay calm she asked politely to speak to the owner of the phone.

"You are," the voice said simply.

Tara pulled the phone from her ear to look at the number dialed. No, this was Pam's number she read the blond's name in her phone where it always was.

"Is Pam there?" she tried another tactic.

"Is that her name?" the voice asked through a giggle. "Pam, Pammy she looks like one."

"Who the fuck are you?" Tara was becoming irate.

She heard snickering from the other end and then a whispered, "she mad."

"Don't worry bout Pammy," the voice returned saying, "she fine and she goin be fine you have a good night."

Soon after Tara held the phone to her hear hearing nothing but dial tone. In the dark she crouched holding the back of her head as she began to breathe in and out slowly. Clenching her eyes shut she stood grasping her phone in an unyielding grip it might have broken under if not for the sense of mind to loosen her hold and dial a familiar number.

"Have you talked to her? Is she ok?"

"No," Tara shook her head knowing that Sookie wouldn't be able to see it, "someone answered her phone though."

"Who?"

"I didn't recognize the voice," then she thought of the second one she heard in the background. It bothered her. How many were with her? What were they doing to her? She had to be scared.

"We need to call the police," Sookie said.

"No," Tara said reflexively.

"What do you mean no this is Pam we're talking about here."

"I know, but what are the police aren't going to do anything before twenty four hours," damn all those cop shows she thought.

"I don't know what you want me to do. I'm not going to sit around when I know she's in trouble."

"You're going to have to," Tara began walking to her car with a purpose. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

Sookie wouldn't like that Tara wasn't prompting an official investigation. It was understandable she wanted to find Pam because she was worried. But, Tara during her conversation figured she might try a hunch and take care of it on her own before she involved the authorities. She looked through call log finding the number she was looking for she pressed call leaning against her seat back tapping an impatient finger on the steering wheel. The first call wasn't answered. She tried again wondering what Lettie Mae's lifestyle caused her to do, the second call went straight to voicemail.

She dialed a second number fortunately it was answered on the first ring, "hey bitch," she heard her cousin's smile over the phone.

"You seen my mother?" she started the inquiries early.

Lafayette paused knowing that Lettie Mae had drug her ass back into town. She never stopped too long which he thought was a good thing. "Naw, why?"

"I think she did something stupid."

"That ain't national news hookah. What she done now?"

Tara considered what she about to accuse her mother of before she said the words. Then with deliberate care she replied, "I think she kidnapped my girlfriend."

"What the hell?" Following his outburst, "you're mama got issues, but she ain't crazy enough to go committing a fucking felony."

The writer wasn't so sure, "she came around and started asking for money," this part of the story wasn't news, "Pam was there."

"You think your mama gonna hold Pam for ransom."

"I don't think she'd think that far ahead," her mind raced as she spoke making sense of all this. They most likely had Pam's car, they had her cell phone, and everything else like her money. They were using her to get what they wanted for the moment. Her mother always had trouble thinking two steps ahead of her addiction.

"Have you called her?"

"It went straight to voicemail," she growled growing impatient with just sitting around being asked questions she called Lafayette for a reason. "You sure you haven't seen her?"

"You know she don't come around like that," after a short pause, "where you at?"

"Parking lot," brown eyes traced the illuminated surfaces of the surrounding cars by street light. She started her engine unsure where she would go, but she trusted she'd figure it out when she got on the road.

Lafayette must have heard the engine, "where you going?"

"To find her."

"Pick me up," Lafayette ordered.

His cousin didn't know the streets like she thought she did. They were just a speck on the map in their little town bordering Louisiana, but there were a plethora of places to get lost in and even worse to get hurt or dead. And although they hadn't spoken or hung out like they used to when they were growing up he highly doubted a few years as a bestselling author changed her temperament that much. She was a hothead she got it from her mother and the environment she forced Tara to live in. Lafayette hated that he couldn't protect her more, but he was only a few years older which didn't amount to much at twelve.

The writer thought about objecting to involving him anymore than she needed to. She felt vulnerable and angry and God knows what she would do if her mother was to blame for all this. The more she thought about it the more the voice in the background sounded like a very amused Lettie Mae. What was she laughing at? Was it funny that Tara was angry because her girlfriend was missing? She found it humorous to scare a woman half to death? She worried over Pam driving on autopilot all the way to the place where Lafayette told her he'd be. She knew the place well having spent plenty of night outside on the benches inhaling the smell of hotdogs, onion, and chili while basking in her dreams of the future. Whatever they were they always ended up with her leaving that world behind with very few places she'd miss like this hotdog stand.

"Hey," Lafayette greeted getting into the passenger seat before she barely stopped the car at the curb.

"Where do we start?"

Lafayette shared a few places where her mother might go or has been. He made a few inquiries to small time dealers he knew because of the illegal nature of his work. They were all competitors, but at some point it becomes healthy to keep one's enemies close.

Before he got out the address his phone began to ring. His face was washed with red light under the stoplight as it folded then relaxed as he became Lafayette the businessman.

"I ain't cooking tonight," his tone was stern. He had created his own language amongst his clients who called him by an unassuming moniker, 'Cook'. It was one of several tactics he'd used learning from the mistake of his predecessors who were caught talking plainly about their business as if they were discussing politics over brunch. He wouldn't go down for some strung out addict trying to beat a charge.

Tara couldn't hear much from the other person, but the voice was mousy and speaking hurriedly she wondered how Lafayette could understand her.

Then he hung up the phone without warning. Tara drove to the first destination which wasn't too far from the hot dog place. The house looked worn down and she could only fathom what horrors lay inside. Thinking that Pam could be in a place like this she immediately released her seat belt rushing out of the car almost to the front door when Lafayette stopped her before she could even touch the steps.

"I'm not staying in the car," she glared when he opened his mouth.

"Fine," he didn't release, "I'm doing you a favor I ain't trying to get shot tonight—so keep your shit together."

They held each other's gaze in a battle of wills until Tara swallowed her rage long enough to permit him to take the lead. The door opened without the dark skinned man knocking and Tara angled her head to get a good look of the person responsible. She didn't get a good look at his face, but she could've sworn she saw a gun resting in the front of his pants. Turning away she reached into her pants pockets to give her something to do. Lafayette's whispers were the background to the images that passed through her head of all the fucked up shit Pam might be going through. What were they doing to her? She asked herself feeling her phone vibrate. Before she picked up the phone to answer she felt a wave of hope overtake her and then crash violently reawakening her despondent disposition when she it was only Sookie. She probably wanted an update of her progress. Returning to the car, but keeping an eye on her cousin and the shadow in the door she answered.

"I haven't found her yet," she decided to tell her the bad news before she entertained hopeful news after she asked.

"I called the police," Sookie sniffed like she'd been crying, "they said what you did." Tara answered with silence assuming the dark skinned woman was made at her initiative, "I had to do something," she reasoned.

"I know," Tara didn't blame her. She blamed the people who worried them enough to put them in such vulnerable positions. Lafayette started back to the car, "I gotta go, call you later."

Sookie may have said something encouraging, but Tara ended the call before she could discern what the blond said exactly. She was more concerned with her cousin's news.

"Well? Have they seen her?"

He shook his head. They got in the car again at Lafayette's insistence they try another house that was nearby.

"What are you doing?" he asked when Tara picked up her phone placing it at her ear to hear the dialing.

"Calling Lettie Mae."

After the third ring the call was ignored and sent straight to voicemail.

"Fuck!" Tara hit the steering wheel when she stopped at another stoplight. She glared at the red as it glared back at her as if they were enemies. "What the fuck is she doing?"

"Probably getting high," Lafayette gave her the honest answer and Tara couldn't appreciate the candor, not to tonight. She'd just seen Pam, she'd just smelled her and touched her and kissed her. Why was this happening?

"Answer your fucking phone," Tara demanded abruptly when she heard her cousin's phone go off for the fifth time in a row since they left that first house.

"Keep. It. Together," he spoke slowly. He only answered the phone to dissuade the caller from calling him anymore since it was affecting his cousin's rattled nerves. His tone became stern and then something in it changed alarming Tara when she heard him say that he'd meet her at Chauncey's Motel. It was a seedy little spot on the outskirts that was addict friendly and very popular amongst prostitutes that freelanced.

"What the fuck are you doing? My girlfriend's still out there," Tara was growing angry, "and you want to sell drugs right now."

"It's a lot of money," Lafayette stated looking out the window, "too much damn money for the bitch that just called me," he looked at Tara pointedly, "and I happen to know that Lettie Mae hangs around her sometimes."

Tara swallowed speeding up.

"You think she's ok. You think my mom would do something stupid like hurt her?" Tara asked getting tired of torturing herself with her thoughts. She needed to say them aloud if only to hear Lafayette tell her she was crazy for thinking those things. Tara wanted him to tell her to be positive about the about outcome. And he did. For some reason it didn't make her feel better. She'd lived with her mother the drunk and on occasion was literally grazed by her mother when she was high. It was a pretty sight and the woman she became wasn't a mother much less a human being devoid of remorse and driven by the selfish need to attain her high at any cost.


	5. Chapter 5

The smell of smoke filled the room in the background Pam heard music floating from somewhere probably one of the rooms around them. Stiff and afraid she sat on the edge of the bed saying nothing. Her eyes trailed around the burgundy room and the people who brought her here. She recognized only one of them because she'd met Tara's mother today. Earlier in the evening she tried to reason with her, but they, her two other friends, thought it was too amusing for words. They were constantly snickering about something whether behind her back or in her face. The tall one was thin with a thick mustache and a chipped tooth in the front she assumed he was one that put her in the backseat of her car. The third accomplice was a woman who'd been on the phone all night alternating between her touch screen and a flip phone. She was the most talkative of them all sending the others on errands like she was running the show and they followed blindly letting her think she did because Pam noticed, she was well connected with the drug dealers in this area.

With the help of her credit card they were stocked with drugs she either never heard of or seen or she had seen, but only on television. She felt relatively free since they hadn't tied her up. After she came to in the back of her car she saw the passing lights and when her eyes could finally focus and her consciousness registered that something was wrong.

"Easy shug," she heard.

That's when she catalogued her predicament fear sinking in when she saw unfamiliar face sunken in and light by the green glowing lights coming from her dash.

"What do you want?" she mumbled leaning closer to the door careful to keep her hands still and in sight they looked like a skittish bunch.

"We celebrating," she was told by the thin man who was charged to keep her in life she understood when he mirrored every move she made and basically held her close when they were walking into the motel.

"This is kidnapping."

"No," Lettie Mae shook her head. "No, this is me getting to know my baby's baby," she clarified. "I know you want to look good for me so I won't mind you with my daughter."

Pam was struck silent. What was this woman talking about? She changed stopped the conversation to tell the driver, who had been the woman with her phone, where to go next. Then she turned back to Pam to detail the night in detail and to reassure her she wouldn't be getting hurt if she did what she was told. Pam didn't think she'd sound convincing so she just nodded her head after Lettie Mae asked if she understood. From then on she was practically ignored except when it came to them wanting to something. They held her at gunpoint to get her ATM pin number and forced her to join their shopping spree in a ABC store where she 'treated'. She through the gray haired man behind the counter would sense she wasn't ok, but by the end of ringing up the purchases and paying for it he looked up at her and her 'friends' and smiled widely telling them to have a good day.

From then on she knew she was on her own, but she sorely hoped someone would come in and save her from the people. They'd only made a few stops in her car. Inside it she heard Lettie Mae and the others boasting they made a new friend who insisted on paying for everything. The replies they received in return were mostly out of disbelief and a few had come to the car to see her like she was a pet on display. They knew something was wrong doing nothing to lift a finger for her, but giving the trio a mouth full about taking what they came for and leaving soon. If they were affected by being shunned they didn't act like it. They were having the time of their life in her car dropping cigarettes on here carpet burning it when they stomped them out on the floor. The physical reaction to having her things violated wasn't overpowering her enough to discern details about the members Lettie Mae called Daniel and Neenee.

Daniel had a tattoo on his neck of lips and underneath in cursive was the name Monique. Neenee was a light skinned woman with no tattoos she looked to be around Lettie's age, but it was safe to say she was probably young considering Lettie Mae liked to refer to her as little girl. Her teeth were rotten like she hadn't had access to a toothbrush in years.

In captivity Pam was very busy for someone who only moved when she was told. Bottles were on the floor and there were more to follow at the rate that they were imbibing. She couldn't believe that people drank this much and still sat up and laughed and smoked and drank more. Surely they were trying to kill themselves through over indulgence. And she was forced to watch careful to do nothing but sit and breathe as they moved around her.

"We got some good shit on the way," Neenee announced to the other bouncing up and clapping congratulating herself on a job well done.

"You ain't tell him I'm with you right?" Lettie Mae's brow hiked in suspicion.

Neenee shook her head looking offended the other addict would think she would.

Pam smelled Daniel before he sank beside her on the bed. He smoked from a glass bowl that smelled awful to her and sounded like he was frying fish. Lying back on the bed supposedly to succumb to his high he was right beside her. From the corner of her eye she saw his hand reach inside his pants and rest their idly for a few moments and she was almost afraid he'd start pleasuring himself beside her. Fortunately Neenee saved him from that fate when stomped between his legs almost losing her balance in the process.

He yelled in pain and in shock rising he found her holding her body up with the chair that saved her from falling. His hand was raised over her face and it came down quickly. Pam startled moved from the corner of the bed while the two quarreled. Because Neenee got right back up and hit him back dropping him on his butt attempting to stomp him to death. Lettie Mae came beside her with Daniel's stench and she worried she might smell the same way when she being in a closed room with them.

"They in love," she informed, "cigarette?"

Pam shook her head declining politely with and added, "No thank you." She surprised herself with how calm she sounded.

"You ever been in love?" Tara's mother invaded her personal space.

The blond didn't answer.

"Of course you have," Lettie Mae answered for her, "with some rich man with wavy dark hair and a strong chin with a big dick, right?" She didn't wait for Pam to confirm, "all you rich folk the same coming and taking whatever you want because you can like a good, decent black woman from the other side of the tracks."

Pam was not rich and whatever depiction of her character Lettie Mae had in her head was far from the truth. She loved Tara, but she chose not to argue with her trading glances with the couple who'd already made up locked away in the bathroom somewhere.

"I got to hand it to my girl," the older woman appraised Pam, "she got tastes. Blond hair, blue eyes, you can't get more vanilla than that can you?" She studied Pam drinking from her glass, "you don't talk much do you? I don't suppose you need to do much talking with a body like that."

Pam forced her anxiety down. Stopping her hands from reflexively covering whatever part of her body Lettie Mae was studying.

"How long are you going to keep me here."

"If you going to be with my baby then you got to learn what you getting into."

"You're going to tell me?"

"No baby I'ma show you," she smiled evilly, "Tara ain't nothing but apple from my tree," she husked then began a fit of coughing.

In the background they heard the lovers. Pam wanted more than anything to tune them out. So, she focused on Lettie Mae again.

"You know she don't drink or smoke, I'm the reason, she think it's bad for you, but I have the time of my life when I'm high. She just scared the same thing going to happen to her that she going to enjoy life. I ain't never seen anybody that afraid of it," she shook her head confused.

The blond shifted.

"What you do for fun?"

Several things came to mind, but she chose the safest answer, "I like reading."

Lettie Mae laughed, "you look like a reader," she inhaled her cigarette slamming it in the ashtray with added force.

"Tara like to read too, she can write, she was always writing. I bet you two met in a library or something," she looked off envisioning another time, "Tara used to write bad things about me in her journal. I ripped it up when I found it and I felt it there on her bed so she could see." This memory seemed funny to her because she laughed soon after, "you should've seen the look on her face when she came home from school. If looks could kill you wouldn't be having this heart to heart."

Pam was finding it hard to find anything redeeming about this woman. She could see very little if anything of Tara in her mother.

"She said some hateful things. Called me a bad mother," she laughed, "that t.v. got her thinking mom's supposed to tuck kids in and read them story and play with them," she growled in disgust. "It's the wrong idea they put in kids heads for us mother's who have lives—I ain't have time for that."

Of course she didn't Pam's hand clenched into a fist. Tara shared horrible stories that Pam guiltily thought were exaggerated because Tara could stretch the truth when she wanted to. Every circumstance had her mother as the villain the kind that no one can sympathize with. Pam having never encountered such a person couldn't believe someone like that existed until tonight when being help captive by her girlfriend's mother opened her eyes to a glimpse of what Tara must have gone through. And to hear this unrepentant woman babble about how unhappy her child was then to justify her negligence repulsed the blond. But, she couldn't say these things. She couldn't let on that she felt that way because she it was three against one, for now they were all happy, but their moods could change in an instant which terrified Pam most of all.

The bathroom door creaked open and with a smug satisfied look Neenee came out of the bathroom wanting an audience as she straightened up her clothes to confirm the sounds from earlier were from sex.

"What ya'll talking about?" she flopped down beside Pam with a putrid stench rising from the move.

Pam didn't react even though she was screaming inside.

When her phone rang Neenee reached for the flip phone answering it on the second ring, "he here," she stated collecting Pam's purse and getting the money out of it, "thanks, be right back," she said excitedly.

Then she was gone.

Pam thought Lettie Mae was going to start the conversation where she left off, but she didn't. She stood beginning to pass as Daniel joined them. This time thankfully he took a seat on the extra chair moving it adjacent to the bed to stare at her.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she informed.

"You need help or something?" Lettie Mae glared at her for telling her business she didn't need to know and that she didn't care about.

"No, I'm—"

"Go to the fucking bathroom then nobody's going to hold your hand," she yelled.

The blond stood spending choosing her steps carefully because there were several bottles and strewn clothes on the floor that she didn't even want her heel touching. Finally, she made it to the door feeling less alive as the halogen bulb overhead hurt her eyes.

"What the fuck?" she looked at the mess of the bathroom closing the curtain to the shower when she saw Daniel's contribution to procreation handing from the hot water knob.

There were no windows so she couldn't escape that way. She needed to calm down and breathe she told her reflection staring at it trying to give herself the pep talk she would give someone in a similar situation. It had felt like only minutes when she heard knocking assuming one of her captors wanted to use it she reached for the handle and stopped when she heard extra voices. Neenee sounded scared and then there was a very angry female voice that asked, "Where is she?" She knew that voice she gasped with excitement and relief. Tara.


	6. Chapter 6

A dark uncoordinated figure reached Tara's car practically hanging over it when she arrived at Lafayette's window. With a large smile she greeted him the cash hanging out of her pocket ready to be exchanged for drugs. The woman never acknowledged Tara after all her business was with Lafayette why would she worry about the woman looking her over extremely curious. During their negotiations the writer looked at the hotel door where she saw her come out of. She wondered if Pam was beyond that door and if she was she ok? There was one way to find out. She opened the car door heading to the motel door. Neenee looked up from Lafayette's window glaring in her direction.

"Hey where the hell you going?" she yelled moving away from the door giving the drug dealer enough room to open his door and exit.

He didn't worry about calming her down, "where'd you get this kind of cash?" she asked grabbing her by her wrist when she was heading toward his cousin.

"I won the lottery," she said quickly.

Lafayette gave her an incredulous look before dragging her along cursing him. She made enough noise to make sure that whoever was in the room would know they were coming. Fortunately, surprise wasn't included in their plan.

The door was unlocked when Tara tried it. When she walked in she was immediately assaulted by a horrendous smell and the image of a messy room. A man lay on one of the two beds in the room and sitting closer to the window she saw her glassy eyed mother. She didn't seem to recognize her at first either from shock or whatever was in her system.

"Tara?" she heard her whisper her name like she was some secret.

"Who the fuck is this?" the chipped tooth accomplice bounced from the bed as best as he could when Lafayette came holding Neenee by the arm.

"Where the fuck is she?" she directed the question to her mother.

The dark skinned woman looked around the woman and shrugged forcing her eyes away from the bathroom door. It didn't matter though, because after a few moments when the question was asked the bathroom door opened to reveal the missing blond.

"Tara," she rushed into the writer's arm before chipped tooth could react and stop her.

Lettie Mae didn't seem as worried.

"You going to call the police now?" Lettie Mae asked as if she knew the answer.

Tara swallowed. She wrapped her arms around the slender woman. Dropping her forehead on the woman's shoulder letting her hands wander over her arm to make sure she was real and safe. "Are you okay?" she implored staring into blue eyes that weren't as bright and hopeful as they had been earlier that night.

Pam nodded optimistically, "fine."

Tara didn't believe her. Pulling away she looked at the guilty three surrounded by their clothes, drugs, bottles, and stolen money. They were shroud in a shadow of guilt and Tara could feel herself steadily losing control especially at her mother's lack of remorse.

"Let's go," she guided Pam by the small of her back.

"It was nice getting to know you," Tara heard the smile on her mother's lips and when she turned to confirm everything went dark.

It was a surreal feeling when adrenaline takes over and rage becomes more than an idea or a feeling because when it takes on a life of its own it's a daunting entity that kicks reason to the side. Tara couldn't have lost more than three minutes, but it was enough time to hit her mother over and over until Lafayette and Pam pulled her off the older woman practically tossing her out the door. Somewhere along the way Pam collected the items the trio confiscated for their fun. Lafayette took the keys rushing her out and pushing her to the car.

"You're dead to me!" she yelled even as she was being shoved outside.

Shoving Tara in the backseat he got into the driver seat and Pam joined her. The dark skinned woman heard Pam's soothing words and as she became conscious of the present again and the pain in her hands began to throb. Inspecting the source of the pain she saw they were red and some of the skin was peeled off. She thought about asking what happened until the images of her fist hitting her mother's face shocked her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to no one in particular.

Pam wrapped her arms around her consoling the troubled woman.

"I never wanted you to see," she repeated in her lover's breast inhaling her sweet scent wishing she could meld into the good that Pam represented in her life. Nothing that came from her mother deserved to exist and yet it did inside her—that's where the rage came from.

Lafayette kept his eye front giving them as much privacy as he could in the same car. Because no one had volunteered that Tara moved into a hotel the last few months he headed to the home he knew they shared, the one Pam had been living in alone pining for the dark writer to come back to.

When they arrived at the house Tara looked momentarily lost, but she let Pam lead her into the house holding the door open for her cousin who followed. He stopped in the living area, but Pam encouraged him to come upstairs to the spare bedroom.

They had all had a night and it might do them all some good to leave it all behind for dreams. To forget and wake up to a new day like a new slate they could rewrite their life decisions on and do better. Tara back was a good start. When she provided him with blankets and an extra pillow she found Tara in the bedroom sitting at the edge of their bed awkwardly.

"What are you thinking about?"

Tara looked up at her, "You should call Sookie."

The blond paused before she made that call then dialed staring at Tara searching the room for what she didn't know.

"I haven't changed anything," she stated before Sookie answered the phone worriedly.

"Where were you? Are you ok? What happened?" began that bombardment of questions Pam responded to vaguely. She saw the guilt on her lover's face and it probably wouldn't help the rest of the evening to admit Tara's mother had kidnapped her to feed her and her friend's habit. She promised to fill Sookie in more tomorrow, but for right now she was too tired to continue. The night had ran away from them and they had a few hours until the sunrise.

"Where are you going?" she asked when Tara stood.

Brown eyes met blue, "nowhere," she headed to the bathroom closing the door behind her.

A few minutes later Pam breathed a sigh of relief when she heard water running. Tara was making a bath. Heading straight to the drawer she pulled out night clothes from them both. When they lay flat and neat she began to undress stopping before she was completely naked when the bathroom door creaked open revealing her lover still dressed. Suddenly stuck by nervous she forced herself to finish what she started turning straight on with her lover watching Tara watch her.

Undressed the writer looked over the woman's birthday suit describing in her head as pure perfection. Instead of saying it aloud she pushed the door wider as she said, "your bath is ready."

"Aren't you joining me?" she stopped not even an inch passed the threshold in Tara's personal space.

The writer acknowledged their proximity drawn to the milky white skin and her sweet smell she wished to be enveloped by and held there in a moment where she could forget the bad that transpired this evening.

"You want me," she studied the firm look in her lover's eyes.

Pam didn't respond turning her body to the dark skinned woman undressing her with slow confidant movements that Tara responded to by raising her arms and stepping out of the rest of her clothes.

"Light and dark," the writer made the observation when they were both nude.

Like she had done before they got into the house Pam drew her toward her their nipples brushing on their exposed skin leading her to the bath she stepped in first settling on side while Tara joined her on the other. Their legs collided as they slid them more comfortably to accommodate both their bodies.

They sat like that until Tara decided to wash her lover. Moving her body and shifting water every scrub was reverent and tender without being sensual. This wasn't a seduction because she was filled with guilt for exposing the blond to her mother's addiction. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for her.

A pale hand stopped her spreading her legs as wide as the tub would let her and pulling the dark skinned woman between her legs. Tara came willing too tired to fight.

"I love you."

The writer scoffed, "why?"

"Because you make me feel safe."

"My—"

Pam stopped her with her fingers pressed on obstinate lips anticipating whatever she planned to say wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.

"You make me feel safe," she reiterated.

Replacing her lips with her fingers she sucked on the writer's bottom lip licking it afterward daring Tara to ruin this moment. The writer swallowed her anxiety thinking of what Pam needed right now. Bring a wet hand behind her neck she massaged it before dropping her full weight on the blond feeling wet legs wrap around her.

Tara slid the back of her left hand on an erect nipple letting it continue to roam to her lover's center sliding her fingers on the slick folds kissing the lips that parted wider in a pleased gasp. Brown eyes trailed over the blond reaction to her touch. Playing with her clit between her fingers and rubbed it gently and slowly while the blond moved against her the heel of her feet stabbing her backside pleasurably.

"You're mine," she whispered. "You've always been mine." Tara stated firmly and protectively pushing the emotions of worry aside letting them being replaced by ardor and intent.

And in response the blond whimpered a yes.

"Say it," Tara commanded.

Pam clenched her eyes closed her nails digging into Tara's back as waves of pleasure took her over making her temporarily forget the ability to speak.

Tara didn't command her again seeing that she had lost the ability to speak she shifted her body and her hands in the process sinking two fingers inside still rubbing on her clit with her thumb and pointer finger. Pushing in she pressed her lower to give her lover the sensation of being full assaulting her neck with her teeth happy to feel her nails digging deeper scratching her back.

Losing themselves in each other water hit the side of the tub spilling over the side. Their moans were quiet, but they still echoed in the bathroom.

"Fuck," Pam whispered opening her legs wider needlessly giving the writer more access, "fuck," she whimpered again her mouth wide and waiting for Tara's tongue and the writer didn't disappoint.

The explosion was spectacular and while it came quicker than usual her lover wasn't offended leaning above her to watch the expression of pleasure shower her face with color.

Panting, "I missed you."

Tara missed her to. Dropping a gentle kiss on her lips then her nose then her forehead she rose from the tub careful of the soaked floor reaching for their towel. She dried her lover off and when she was finished the blond returned the favor. Inside the bedroom Tara looked amusedly at the clothes on the bed picking them up and discarding them. The writer got in first and Pam not far behind wrapped her hands around the dark waist pressing herself into her. They kissed and stroked and made promises to each other as their bodies relaxed and their minds drifted until they were contently sleeping in each other's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Not long after she fell asleep Pam woke up again. Most of her nights had been spent dreaming of Tara's return prompting her to reach to the other side of the bed for someone who wasn't there. So tonight she reached and finally felt something warm. For a moment she stopped herself afraid that she had finally given in regarding the advances of a certain bar hopper that had been trying to get in her bed. She peaked an eye open cautious as to what she might find relieved that it was Tara and this wasn't a dream. Sliding closer she began to caress the side of her face and slipped her hand down to her waist underneath the covers making lazy circles just above the curve that made up her firm backside.

"Go to sleep," Tara's eyes remained closed.

Pam smiled biting her lip hesitantly released it to kiss Tara, "I like you here."

The writer didn't speak for a long time after until she decided she wanted to be honest, "I like being here."

"You should," Pam sighed heavily suddenly a flood of anger stopped in her chest and in a controlled eruption of anger she continued, "This is your home too."

Brown eyes me blue.

"I know."

"Then stay."

Tara swallowed closing her eyes again, "let's just go back to sleep, we'll talk about this in the morning."

Pam rose on her arm sitting up letting the cool air under the blankets. Tara graced her with an unappreciative look.

"And then what?"

"Pam."

"No," she shook her head keeping her voice down since they had a visitor, "no, I don't want to do this anymore. I know what you're running away from," she sighed, "I know what you're trying to protect me from, but if you can't trust me not to break then I don't see the point of us being together."

Tara shifted to her back studying the ceiling like it held the answers to the mess of her life. Like it could save her from drowning because that's exactly what it felt like.

"You said you'd be patient," Tara reminded her.

"That was before your mother and her friends took me, my car, and my ATM card for a joyride."

Tara rose getting out of bed. Turning on the side lamp she began looking for her clothes.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," she stated putting on pants first and then she found a shirt in a drawer. She couldn't remember where she'd gotten it from, but it was worn and faded and since Pam liked it she had given it to her. "I just figure if we're going to argue might as well have some clothes on when we do it."

Sitting up and bringing the sheet with her Pam watched Tara's defeated movements. She was watching the dark skinned woman give up on them. She thought about professing her undying love, but she couldn't manage it in a way that didn't sound desperate so she gave up. Tara took a seat at the end of the bed. She was so close and too far away for love to reason with her because she could see the writer had made a decision without her.

"I thought I was yours."

Tara bowed her head from the accusing in the blue eyes that were quickly turning cold. Where had that warmth gone? It hadn't been too long ago that they were lust filled and before and after that they were full of love and trust.

"Can't we just finish this in the morning?"

"It is morning," Pam responded unyieldingly. "I've seen where you come from. Isn't that enough for you to trust me?"

"You've seen where I come from," Tara tasted the phrase and she didn't like it coming out of Pam's mouth. As a writer she had control of her characters of their lives and their decisions it was a wonderful kind of power she wished she wielded in the real world, but the world doesn't work that way. People make mistakes, say the wrong things, make the worst decisions and other spectrum they are kind of and capable and full of promise. This was too important of a decision to make on barely two hours of sleep, but Pam was demanding it. She couldn't blame her, she put her through enough with her stand-offish attitude and her mother.

"I'm not as ready to give up as you are."

Tara took offense to the statement when everything she'd done even if she hadn't said it aloud was meant to protect the blond. She didn't want her to ever consider that Tara didn't want to be with her—that she wouldn't fight for her, because she would.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said remaining on the other end. It was important to get this out, "nobody from where I grew up would understand us," she began. "I've seen them to do it all my life how they ostracize people who don't fit in their box of what's supposed to be and what's not supposed to be."

"What's that got to do with us?"

"Everything!" Tara breathed exasperatedly. "Maybe I went into this a little naively."

"Fucking me was naïve?" Pam glared.

"No," Tara tried to salvage the conversation by taking control of it again, "I mean that we're from two different world's Pam. I gotta keep mine away from yours for your sake—for our sake."

"I don't know where you're going with this," Pam was becoming frustrated. Tara wasn't saying what she meant. And she wanted nothing more than for the woman to get to the point. "I want every part of you because it's who you are."

"Fuck, you want the drug addicted mother who comes around every couple of months for handouts? You want the drug dealer cousins over for Thanksgiving. Better yet how bout we invite my mom's friends over for date night some time and discuss politics," she ended sarcastically. "It wouldn't work. We…."

"We what?"

"Wouldn't work," the writer finished.

"Fuck you," Pam was getting angry now. She hadn't waited around all these months for Tara to figure out they were different when that had been established earlier on in the relationship, but they had made it work and now her mother had triggered questions of self worth that had her questioning everything good about her life. It was unacceptable. "Fuck you," she rose pouncing on the dark skinned woman who she loved. Straddling her with half the cover off of her she held Tara in place. "Fuck you," she murmured inches from her lips.

"I'm saying what's on both of our minds," Tara said.

The worst part is she sounded convinced that this had been a long time coming.

"Only one of us is unsure about how they feel," Pam held her gaze, "I know how I feel about you."

Tara's next words were said carefully as the sunlight began washing in through their window shimmering in the blond's untidy head of hair. "You're insane," she attempted to tame it petting strays hairs to a uniform mane.

"That's not good enough," Pam wouldn't let her get by on her charm.

"I'm not going anywhere," she rose kissing Pam's lips, "I don't want to be anywhere where you aren't, I feel lost and lonely," she thought about the torturous hours when the blond went missing, "I don't want to lose you to my past, my mother, or my own stupidity."

Pam rose and Tara follows her up wrapping her hands around her lover's waist. Brushing the tip of her tongue on Pam's erect nipple Tara arched her back but stubbornly kept her hands at her sides. Tara secured her hands under her lover's backside opening her mouth wider sucking affectionately. Through the sheet Pam moves her hips against the fabric of the sheets separating them.

"I don't want you to leave me."

Tara pulled Pam to her lips passionately, "I ain't going anywhere."

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Thank you for reading.


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